


Old Lady

by Lyerre



Series: Dreams [1]
Category: No Fandom
Genre: Fair Folks, Other, dream - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 20:00:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17648939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyerre/pseuds/Lyerre
Summary: A dream I had about a group of people being invited in a Fair Folk's abode, and what ensues. Thanks to @Ljosfari for the names I changed from the real names of friends.





	Old Lady

I was part of a caravan of people, about a hundred souls. I have no idea why we left the place we were before, but we were slowly going... somewhere, anywhere that would take us. Good thing we wandered aimlessly because otherwise we'd be lost. There was an unrelenting, massive snowstorm, and most people had frostbite. Time was a blur.

At some point during an afternoon, we saw a small house, smack dab in the forest, clearly looking out of place and also, at the same time... at home? There was no light inside, and trees around it were bent. Most people were horrified and refused to get near it, saying we should continue on our way, that no good would come out of it, but some people (all ladies, ages 12 to 65, myself included) found it to be very charming, that it looked warm, and that they felt... invited. So we detached from the group and knocked on the door. The lights inside came on, and some seconds later a frail old lady, dressed in old lady clothes (mostly pastel, a long knitted shawl, etc), showed us the way in. She was very kind and heartwarming. When she closed the door, I caught a glimpse of the black, pupil-less stare she threw at the caravan. They started moving, abandoning us.

I recalled some words from my mother, told years ago:

"If you ever meet the Old Lady, and you'll know the one, don't go in the basement. She'll ask you to go. She'll insist. Don't. Make excuses, but don't lie. Don't antagonize her. Learn what you can, and when she's a bit too pushy, get out of there and don't look back. Don't clean your room, for it would mean you belong there. You don't."

I remember her eyes after that story. Eyes that had lived things, eyes that were afraid for her daughter. Eyes of deeds past. 

We were five or six ladies in the old lady's home, and she guided each of us to a different room. It was pleasantly warm inside, and very cozy, very old lady-like. She lived alone but it was obvious she had no problem whatsoever. Just before getting to bed, I told the others about the Rules. I couldn't explain why, but they all accepted, some with some degree of reluctance ("We can trust her, she's just an old lady", "She seems nice", etc). Starting from the next morning, she took each one of us separately and "asked" us if we wanted to learn old lady things. Asked us the way a grandma would "ask" if you want to learn crochet with her, saying her own daughter never wanted to try, or be with her, etc. The Old Lady didn't talk about a daughter, but the feeling was the same, we couldn't really decline. When one accepted, she would brighten up, almost too sunny, and take her somewhere to learn what she wanted to pass on.

She started with Carmen, and showed her what to inscribe on the bottom of the dough when making meatpies and the likes so it would always taste great and never go bad. She showed her what to say, in what voice, to her knives so they would stay sharp forever. She showed Victoria how to read the stars and know the weather a week in advance, and what to give to the midnight air so the weather would be what you wanted to be. She showed me how to keep my garden always available (her garden was like a summer patch when everywhere else, about a meter of snow piled up) and how to grow any crops I wanted, even those I didn't have seeds for, even those I didn't know existed, even those that didn't exist. I don't know what she showed the others.

I was very happy to learn, but never exactly at ease. Even the others started sensing something was off. The way she was way too fast for an old lady that could almost need a walking stick (sometimes you'd blink and she was a few meters away from her original position). The way her lovely hugs didn't feel like frail old lady hugs (stronger. Stronger even than a man in his prime. Stronger than two). The way she was always up when the last one of us went to bed, and yet always up before the first one of us awoke in the morning (never sleeping, never at rest. Never at ease.) The way you couldn't exactly tell what the deal with her teeth was (each time she smiled with love shining on her face, her teeth weren't exactly the same. Sometimes too white, sometimes too numerous. Sometimes too sharp). After about a week, Victoria caught me alone, concern in her voice. Victoria is a devout Christian, you see, and very not the likes to like or agree with anything that's not holy. She takes me by the arm and murmurs too quickly, too strongly, a hint of fear in her voice:

"We have to get out of here. You were right. Yesterday a girl helped her bring boxes of canned beets in the basement. She never got out. Come with us."

And she was right. We should go. We probably overstayed already.

I was the last to be ready because they were already all afraid, all rushing to leave. On my way out, I caught a glimpse of one of the girls, sitting on her bed, eyes half-shut, not focussed. Her room was tidy, she probably cleaned it up. When I told her to go, she grunted absently. When I tried to move her so she'd come with me, she tried walking towards her room again. The further I pulled her, the stronger she became, so I had to abandon her. As I was getting dressed in snowgear by the door, a small voice behind me surprised me:

"Will you help out a weak old lady carry things to her basement, dear? My poor little arms couldn't..."

I never heard her walk up to me. I couldn't but answer truthfully, so I went with humour:

"Oh don't be silly, Grandma (she told us to call her that), you're plenty strong!"

"But I'm feeling sleepy today..."

"You never sleep, Grandma, you're too old for rest!"

I had a smile in my voice, but the decline was firm. I put on my tuque and opened the door. I felt her tiny hand grab my elbow.

"Are you sure you want to go away, hun? Think of what you could learn here. How you could develop. What you could become."

And she was right. I thought about it. I really thought about it. But my friends were already walking away in the dead of night, I couldn't abandon them.

"I thought about it, Grandma. And you're right. You always are. I'll come back."

This was not a lie. I knew I'd come back sooner or later, to learn more. To help others that wander there get away from her. She knew I wasn't lying, and let go of me. I went for my friends, not looking back.

 

Probable epilogue: I go see her again, she teaches me so many things, I start to change, get like her. One day she's too old, even though she's already centuries old, probably, and can't go on. So I take her place as the Old Lady, and teach girls tricks.

**Author's Note:**

> Details are lacking, it could be polished more, but I liked the raw, morning-immediately-after feel of it.


End file.
